Bloody Roses, Black Lace
by JackTheRipper-Ette
Summary: This is the story of Jack the Ripper. Her real name was Jacquline Francoiske-DeLenour, age of sixteen at the time of the WhiteChapel Murders. A horror story intermixed with splashes of romance and of course blood and gore. Full summary inside.
1. About

**~ Information You Should Know ~**

**Name: **Jacquline Francoiske-DeLenour

**Date Of Birth:** August 31, 1872  
**  
Family History:  
**Daughter of Sir Henry Francoiske and Dr. Elizabeth Annabelle DeLenour

Sister to Alexander Francoiske:  
Born June 24, 1862  
Son of Sir Henry Francoiske and Lady Marine Francoiske  
Husband to Caroline Francoiske  
Father to John and Caroline Francoiske

Sister to Charles Francoiske:  
Born May 17, 1864  
Son of Sir Henry Francoiske and Lady Marine Francoiske

Sister to Mark Francoiske:  
Born September 6, 1880  
Son of Sir Henry Francoiske and Eliza Edowne

_Sir Henry Francoiske was married to Lady Marine Francoiske until her death due to complications while giving birth to Charles Francoiske. He later re-married to Elizabeth Annabelle DeLenour a well bread female doctor. Eliza Edowne was a prostitute Sir Henry got involved with, going so far as to move her into his house as a maid. Elizabeth Annabelle DeLenour committed suicide upon learning of her husbands' late night escapades with the newly impregnated Eliza Edowne. Eliza Edowne died due to complications giving birth to Mark Francoiske._

**Personal History:**

_At the age of eight it was Jacquline that first discovered her fathers 'hired help' to be doing more then just the cleaning. It was public knowledge that the maid had come from the East End, a whitechapel slut. That's what her mother called the new maid any way. Jackie didn't dislike the maid in particular but it was clear that her mother did. So Jacquline kept an extra special close watch on Eliza Edowne. The first crime she noticed was that the new maid stole quite often from the kitchen as if she were always hungry. And she kept getting larger in the waist, proof that she was over-eating all their good food! The next thing Jackie noticed was that Eliza often slipped away from the servants quarters after all should be in bed. She also noticed that she only slipped out on the nights her mother was away at the hospital she worked at. And every night she did it her destination always seemed to be her parents' private rooms. At the age of eight Jackie did not understand the implications of this and even though she knew it was wrong she told no one of Eliza's late night trips. Two months after Jackie's discovery another maid came forward with the information Jackie had chose to keep to her self. It was then that Mark Francoiske's existence was announced. Not even a full two days after the knowledge of her father's affair became apparent, her mother took her own life. One month after her mothers death Eliza Edowne had replaced her mother in her fathers bed. Three months of occupying her mother's position led to an untimely end for Eliza while giving birth to Mark Francoiske. Jackie wasn't sad to see her go._

**For Your Benefit:** Jacquline Francoiske-DeLenour is a fictional character created to fill in the mysterious identity of the infamous Jack the Ripper. Or in this case Jackie the Ripper. _(Refereed to as Jack The Ripper-Ette by Jacquline after discovering the media referring to her as Jack The Ripper.)_


	2. Prologue

_London, England_  
_September 6, 1880_

Sir Henry Francoiske sat outside of his own bedchambers, sweat dripping from his hairline. Inside the rooms behind him lay his newest lover deep within the throes of childbirth. He ran a hand through his hair, speckled grey hair, wiping the sweat on the pants leg of his tailor-made britches.

His ears perked up at the sound of creaking floor boards, his attention turning in time to catch his eight year old daughter climbing up the staircase. She was still wearing the dreary black mourning clothes that he himself had long since stopped wearing. Her fiery red hair bounced in curls; a drastic contrast to the black fabric of her dress. It was always a mystery as to where she inherited her hair color for every one of her immediate family members had a black hair color, while the distant members sported brown or darker blonde shades. No one in twelve generations on either side of her family had ever had red hair. Her eyes however, they were mirrored images of her mother's; a light grey speckled her dark green irises.

Shivers ran down Sir Francoiske's spine, forcing him to turn his back on his daughter. Every time he looked into her eyes he was reminded of the horror he had stumbled upon some four months ago. Reminded of the cold, lifeless gaze of his late wife when he found her corpse in the bed they had shared. He knew that his own daughter's eyes would haunt him for the rest of his life, something he'd simply have to deal with.

He was ashamed that his late wife had taken her own life, in fact he was outraged by her ludicrous actions, but the real shame lay within himself. If it were not for the woman in the next room, laying in the very same bed his late wife had taken her life in, if it were not for the fact that said woman was giving birth to his illegitimate child; then his Elizabeth would still be alive.

He winced inwardly at the thought; no, it was not Eliza's fault that Elizabeth had taken her own life. It was not Eliza who had come knocking on his door, but rather he who had sought our Eliza's company in bed. He was to blame entirely, and he felt the weight of that responsibility, of that guilt, heavy upon his shoulders. _Curse my unfaithfulness, _he thought miserably. Just look at the pain he was causing his precious little girl.

Involuntarily, his body shifting back around so his eyes could seek out the child in question, only to be surprised that she was no longer there. He didn't need to think twice about where she had gone; he knew with certainty that she was in the _Bay Room _with her older brother, Charles. At sixteen years old Charles was fully aware that his father was to blame for Elizabeth's death and he had come to despise his father for it. Sir Francoiske feared that Charles would never forgive him for his infidelity.

Charles had always regarded Elizabeth as if she were his own mother seeing as his own mother, Sir Francoiske's first wife, the Lady Marine, died while giving birth to him. It was understandable that Charles would take a shine to the fine female doctor Sir Francoiske later re-married. She raised and took care of Charles as if he were her own; and she loved him whole heartedly.

With that thought in mind his thoughts turned to his oldest child, Alexander, who was off gallivanting in Egypt. He sincerely doubted Alex had even learned of Elizabeth's death yet; a blessing if he hadnt. While Alex had never truly taken a shine to Elizabeth, he was a proud one. He wondered if Alex would be more disappointed in his impregnating a prostitute or with him allowing such a scandal as to have Elizabeth commit suicide. Alexander did not take kindly to scandals such as these.

A groan pushed its way through his wearied lips in time to moans of pain erupting from the room behind him. Oh how he did love Miss Eliza Edowne, but the unending shame of it all was more than over whelming; this was going to ruin him. It was not supposed to go like this, she was only supposed to be a companion to keep him company during the nights while Elizabeth was away, but then she became so much more…

The moans of pain from the room behind quickly escalated into loud piercing screams that vibrated throughout the house. Sir Francoiske raised his hands to cover his ears, the sound coursing through his eardrums painfully. For several minutes the screaming continued until all fell silent. A deathly chill shook him to the core as panic invaded him; images of his first wife's corpse after giving birth, images of Elizabeth's dead gaze boring into his very soul; images of what he might find once he entered the silent room.

He stood up hesitantly, swallowing hard as he stepped towards the door, the sound of the floor creaking beneath his boots sounding all too loud. He took a deep breath reaching his hand out to make contact with the cold brass knob, gripping it firmly in his hand only to have the door jerked open from the other side. The grim faced doctor stood before a dishelmed Sir Francoiske, cradling a very still baby in his arms, the baby wrapped in a very bloody blanket. Sir Francoiske felt his heart tighten in pain, holding his breath while waiting, waiting, waiting… The baby's cries brought relief to his heart as he reached out for the baby, cradling it to his chest.

Sir Francoiske stared down in the beautiful face of a baby boy; his baby boy. A million names coursed through his head as everything around him seemed to fade away into the background until it was only him and the child. The baby raised its fists up towards Sir Francoiske before spreading his fingers wide. With a proud smile he decided that the child shall be called Mark, just as the world came pouring back into his vision. He looked up at the doctor in surprise, having forgotten his presence. Looking closer at the doctor he noticed the man's firm stand, blocking his view of the bedroom behind.

His earlier dread came pouring back into his soul tenfold as realization struck him; his fears were only confirmed as the doctor shook his head, sorrow heavy upon his face. Sir Francoiske pushed the doctor out of his way, his eyes scanning for the sight he feared to see. Grief over took him, shaking his body as silence once again fell upon him despite the child's rather loud screams and the doctors apologizes.

His attention was focused completely on the limp form of ex-prostitute Eliza Edowne; mother to the child he held in his arms; the woman he loved. Her chocolate brown eyes that he adored were wide open, her gaze pointed towards the ceiling but her focus long gone for she could no longer see. Her slender fingers were curled into her palm, her fingertips just barely touching the skin. She was soaked in her own blood, the red liquid having even found its way into her hair. The sheets were stained red, the headboard had blood splatters on it, even the walls held blood traces; it looked as if she had been massacred instead of giving birth.

A single, salty tear leaked from the corner of his eye, trailing down his cheekbone, across the expansive a skin that made up his cheek and down into the curve between his lips where his tongue snaked out to catch it. He shut his eyes tight, cutting off any more tears before turning his back on the bloody mess, turning his back on the dead woman, before clutching his son tight to his chest and walking off down the hall. The doctor followed behind silently, thinking bitterly on how Sir Francoiske had shed that single tear for a prostitute, for a _whore_, when he hadn't even shown remorse or regret for his wife of ten years when she passed.

Unbeknownst to both Sir Francoiske and the doctor, a little girl with fiery red bouncing curls, a little girl all dressed in black, a little girl with grey speckled eyes, was creeping down the hallway in the opposite direction. She stopped in the exact spot Sir Francoiske had momentarily been standing, her gaze peering into the room with curiosity.

Dark green eyes speckled with grey held the reflection of a bloody corpse. Was this the expression, _'Seeing Red'_, the child wondered to herself, for she could certainly see a lot of red. She tilted her head to the side, her curls bouncing up and down as she did. As she watched the dead body several thoughts occurred to the child. This was the woman who had stolen her mother's bed. This was the woman who had made her mother cry. This was the woman responsible for her mother's death. And now this woman was dead. A slow smile spread across the child's rosy red lips in satisfaction.

This moment would later come to be Jacquline Francoiske-DeLenour's most favored memory; the first time she encountered the dark seduction known as death. This moment would be the catalyst for her life to twist and turn, spinning her into a web of murder, lies, and deception.

**A/N: Updated July 29, 2009 - Rewritten; May continue unsure.**

**Sorry if you think it is too short, I'm doing my best here. Review only if you want. Keep in mind if I think no one is reading it then I'll terminate the story.**


End file.
